Funeral
by Ringtailer720
Summary: The problem with large families: having to attend the funeral. Ms. Frizzle attends her grandfather's funeral and reflects on the family.


Summary: The downside to having an extremely large family: attending the funerals. Ms. Frizzle's point of view on loss and, more importantly, family.

Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned below. The song I'm thinking of is "Get Over It" (you'll see what I mean...)

* * *

I'm sorry to say that I just don't feel like my usual self.

About this time I would have taken my small class of eight on yet another excursion to who knows where, having a rip-roaring good time as I usually do. After all, it's what I'm known for: quirky, eccentric, loud even. It would be quite out of character for me if I never did anything that was "normal" now. Valerie Frizzle doesn't do "normal".

My students would all be shocked to see the teacher with the over the top wardrobe and earrings to match dressed in just a simple black dress of mourning, sitting quietly in a church pew before the service.

That was nothing. I gave the secretary quite a scare when I received the message in the main office and hyperventilated. They had to call in two of my brothers to get me to calm down enough and take me home. I'm going to have to thank Phyllis for her patience when I return to work on Monday.

My constant mentioning of random family members is no joke; I really do have an extremely large and close-knit family. Aside from seven of my brothers surrounding me there's my cousin Murph, who at the moment is helping to console my Grandma Molly. There are a total of seventeen aunts and uncles from my paternal and maternal sides, plus their husbands and wives. Aside from Murph, I have roughly thirty cousins. None if this includes second and third cousins, nephews and nieces and my own sister-in-laws.

Thankfully our Catholic church is large enough to house the entire thing.

Being so close to one another, it's a grim occasion when somebody passes on; ironically for every person that dies in this family, another three are born to take his or her place. I say this last thing because I have spotted my older brother Forester's wife, who is currently five months in to a pregnancy with triplets. To go along with that, almost all of the members of my immediate family (except my younger brothers Will and Bobby and myself) are married and have at least one child.

I look over to the right and spot Will, the family's Catholic priest-in-training, saying a few decades before the Mass. His twin Bobby--Robert--gets solace from his fiancee Margaret while he tries to act strong. Josh and Teddy, both with jobs that have seen more gruesome deaths as a cop and fire chief, cuddle with their spouses and young children.

Forester, who will read Grandpa Maxwell's eulogy, is sitting next to his expecting wife and consoles his nine and twelve year old children Dottie and Andy. My other older brothers James and Charlie are also accompanied by their own wives and children.

The space next to me, still unoccupied and probably will remain that way, was supposed to be my older brother Thomas'. That is, it was...

His wife probably wouldn't want him to taint her reputation by attending such a low-class funeral, regardless of Grandpa's last wishes for us to sit by birth order in the front row together.

His wife and I were bitter rivals since high school, and his relationship with and marriage to her drove a wedge between my brother and I that has remained for a good five years. It was partly out of my own stubbornness that drove him away, but I sometimes wish I could apologize to him.

It's times like this when I wish we still had the same closeness we'd had growing up. All of my other siblings have someone or something to comfort them; I don't. I have no spouse and no children.

I'm all alone.

Murph must have seen me shudder, because she places an arm around me. I barely realize that she too hasn't married either. She notices my gaze on the empty spot on the pew next to me but thankfully she doesn't say anything about it.

I don't turn my attention anywhere near the front of the church, where Grandpa Maxwell rests in unnatural sleep in his opened casket. He was always the closest member to me after my flighty mother practically left all of her children to him while she traveled the world extensively. I notice bitterly that she isn't even here for her own father's funeral service.

The bile rises in my throat at that thought; my brother didn't show up either.

I focus all of my energy upon the pulpit and almost miss the form that passes in front of me on the way to the empty seat next to me. My heart jumps a bit more than it should when I realize that Tom actually did show up.

He avoids my gaze and also directs his attention to where mine had been previously. His red hair is slicked back against his head with a gel that calms his hair down to a gentle curl, and his mustache is neatly trimmed. I can see the peppering of gray throughout it all; apparently even as a lawyer he didn't want to dye his hair.

I can also see the faint wrinkles that have begun to form on his face. I find that I can't seem to get enough of seeing my brother after all this time.

_'I'm so sorry, Tommy...'_

I can't form the words or make any sort of sound; the priest has arrived anyway. He begins the service and my eyes wander over to where Grandpa lies. He says his part and then hands it over to Forester, who takes his place at the front.

The light glints off my older brother's completely grey curly hair as he clears his throat; I notice him look down at the paper in front of him as he bites his knuckle like he used to do when he was upset. He has to clear his throat and look at the paper several times before he looks ready to begin. Finally, he lets out a muttered, "Aw, screw it," and tosses the crumpled paper behind him. The priest, and Will, finds this highly insulting; I think Grandpa would have approved.

"What can I say about Grandpa Maxwell, the man who, with his wife of several decades, raised his ten grandchildren as if they were his own? I don't think anything I say can do a man as great as he justice. So I'm going to remember several incidences I think sum him up better."

Forester looks across the sea of faces, and I can almost imagine I see him wink in my general direction. I don't think he even intended it to happen.

"My Grandpa Max loved getting his hands dirty; ask my sister if you don't believe it."

_'Why do you have to bring me into this, Forester?'_ My breath hitches; I know what's coming and it almost makes me sick.

"I remember one time, when Valerie was only eight and Tom was ten, he let them spend the whole day in his garage with an old bus he was fixing up with a family friend. Mr. Humerus was the one who'd found the old thing but it was Grandpa who talked him into working on it. Now Tommy and Val could never get enough of it, seeing Grandpa in the shop and working with his hands."

"Grandpa gave the two of them a love of the Eagles and the Beach Boys that still endures today." He holds up something in his hands; it appears to be some sort of cassette tape. "I thought that by playing a song during this part of my eulogy would fit the mood better. It's going to be Grandpa's favorite songs from the Eagles."

The priest seems to take offense as Forester proceeds to pull out a cassette player and set it up. An all too familiar song begins to play through the speaker, it's gentle guitar riffs evolving into a toe-tapping rhythm.

I don't think about what could be going on in Tom's head; I only know that it feels as though somebody has punched me hard in the chest.

"Now where was I...oh yes, I remember now," Forester explained, though his voice seems to be growing fainter as time passes.

_"This would be the song that Grandpa would play when little spats occurred between Val and Tommy. That one time in the garage with Grandpa Max? Yes, that has something to do with this."_

_"Tommy got mad at our sister because she kept getting in his field of vision, so he shoved her into a pile of grease rags and oil cans; it completely ruined the cute little pink overalls she'd been wearing. Then they'd both began screaming at each other, saying that they'd never speak to each other ever again...Grandpa laughed after that last bit and decided to play this song that is playing as I speak..."_

_"...He told them both to get over it..."_

_"...They were brother and sister, after all..."_

The next thing I know, I'm heaving on the church's front lawn. The rain is steady and cleans the sweat from me. There's a comforting arm wrapped securely around my waist. I know automatically who it is.

"T-tommy..."

He responds by pushing some of the fallen strands of hair from my face. "It's okay Val. I'm here for you."

We are quiet for a few minutes, listening to my ragged breaths and the falling rain on the concrete. He pulls me into a tight hug, needing this as much as I do. I take another shaky breath and hug him back. Then I do one of the hardest things I could ever do.

"I'm so sorry for acting like I did."

I feel him shake his head.

"No. You were right after all. She just wanted to hurt you by hurting me."

"What?" I don't understand what he means.

"She's divorcing me, all because I wanted to attend the funeral. She wanted to take me to the cleaners, but I informed her of our little prenup we signed before our wedding." His voice is cracking; he really did love her.

I can't bring myself to even think "I told you so," much less say it. It only makes me feel worse that my brother had to get hurt. "I'm sorry."

He hugs me tighter. "I can't believe that Grandpa can't even see his own grandchildren make up..." He whispers in my ear and it brings the tears to my eyes. He's right. We haven't attended family gatherings together in five years...Grandpa's last five years...

The rain begins to let up and a sense of peace washes over me. I close my eyes and finally know how to answer.

"I think he already knows."

**(End)****

* * *

****  
Notes:**So a few things to explain:

The funeral for the Friz's grandpa leads to a "funeral" of sorts for all of the animosity between our favorite eccentric teacher and her estranged brother. Yes, Forester did use the whole speech thing to get the two to reconcile; he really did have nothing on that paper to begin with because he knew what to say all along. After all, the Frizzles are all known to screw up and then "conveniently" have a backup plan...


End file.
